


Cafe Claudia

by Chubby-derek-and-friends (da_athanasi), CrazyTenor42



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Weight Gain, chubby!derek hale, chubby!kink, chubby!stiles stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:47:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25060354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_athanasi/pseuds/Chubby-derek-and-friends, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyTenor42/pseuds/CrazyTenor42
Summary: Stiles owns a cafe. Derek used to work in a gym. Derek develops quite the taste for Stiles’s baked goods. Weight gain ensues...
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 43
Kudos: 245
Collections: The Chubby Sterek Collection





	1. Chocolate Cake

Stiles had never seen anyone glare at a bakery case, like each pastry was a complicated problem to be solved. Normally, of course, Stiles never saw customers. Unless it was a rare busy day, he stayed in the kitchen while Erica handled the register and front of house. Today, he heard the bell above the door chime, followed by Erica’s slightly bored, ‘Welcome to Café Claudia’, and then… nothing. Several minutes passed, longer than it ever took their customers to order from the modest selection, and whoever had entered the shop still stayed silent.

Curious, Stiles poked his head out of the kitchen door and saw the man so offended by his desserts. Maybe the man had gotten lost trying to find the gym. A form fitting tank-top and shorts showed off six feet of lean muscle, from the toned, muscular arms to his built calves and thighs. The man undoubtedly had solidly built abs too, which was possibly why the idea of putting anything in his body with so many calories seemed morally offensive to him, or so Stiles assumed. The guy had cheekbones and a jawline that could undoubtedly cut glass, though his eyebrows were more like angry caterpillars that he scrunched above his eyes. 

Stiles gave him another couple of minutes to look before clearing his throat. “Need a suggestion?”

The man looked up as if surprised there was anyone else in the shop. Without breaking eye contact, or changing expression for that matter, the man nodded. 

“Any preferences? Fruits? Nuts? Cream?”

“I – anything, no preference.” The man’s voice was softer than Stiles had been expecting, but still had a growly quality to it that seemed to fit his appearance.

“Well – not that I show favoritism because all my recipes are the best- but the chocolate cake is actually the best.”

“Your recipes?”

“Yep!” He wiped some chocolate off on his apron and held out a hand. “Stiles Stilinski. Baker and owner.”

The other man - Derek - as he introduced himself, shook Stiles hand with a firm grasp that did not leave him wondering how they would feel holding him up against a wall. His motivation to stay professional and not flirt was rapidly dropping. 

“Welcome to Cafe Claudia, Derek. Like I said - the best recipe. Trick is to use melted chocolate, not cocoa powder. Want to try it?” 

After an affirmative from Derek, Stiles opened the case and cut a generous slice. From his left, he saw Erica flash him a knowing look as he slid the larger than normal slice to a plate. Stiles was a little more generous with his portion sizes when it came to certain customers. He was the owner, he was completely allowed to give preferential treatment. No one had to know and this guy looked like he needed a break from protein shakes in favor of something sweet. 

When he handed the plate over the counter and Derek moved over to pay for the dessert, Stiles reluctantly made his way back to the kitchen. He had just finished slicing and stacking his peanut-butter brownies, and was two feet away from the front counter to display them, when someone moaned so obscenely the pan went crashing to the floor. Stiles scrambled to save as many brownies as possible while peeking through the back window to see who the sound had emanated from.

Erica brushed by him, trying to stifle her giggles. The only customer was still Derek, who had looked up at the sound of two dozen perfect brownies splattering on the floor, but went back to eating. He took another bite and groaned happily again, a blissful expression flitting across his face, and Stiles felt dirty for watching. When it happened for a third time though, Stiles couldn’t hold back his curiosity. 

“Oh my god, dude, I know that cake is good but – is this a prank? Are you the world’s most inappropriate food critic?”

“Do food critics come to bakeries?”

Stiles waved his hands. “Yes? No? That’s not that point! You’ve been moaning like this cake is literally better than sex.”

Derek turned red and looked away. Panicked that he had insulted him, Stiles tried to backtrack. “Not that it’s bad. We clearly don’t have customers to bother and I’m really, really happy you like my cake because that’s like, the best compliment ever that you like it that much..”

“I don’t eat sweets much.”

That was pretty obvious. Stiles’ few inches of pudge around his waist were a testament to his sweet tooth. Derek looked like he survived on egg whites and turkey bacon.

“Let me get you another piece to take home then. On the house.” He winked. “Since you enjoy it that much.”

********

Derek dropped his keys into the empty bowl by his loft door, then slid the heavy metal back into the place. The echoing boom of the door seemed like some sort of ominous toll of a bell. Around him, the loft was somewhat dim despite the wall of windows. Without his ex-girlfriend around, Derek wasn’t really sure what to do. 

As he stepped further into the apartment, the bag from Cafe Claudia tapped against Derek’s leg, making its presence known. Derek detoured to the kitchen. Why he had let the kid...man...who ran the bakery talk him into taking a slice of cake home, Derek would never know. It was probably the wink. Derek was a sucker for a wink.

Then again, Derek had no idea why he had gone into the bakery at all. He hadn’t started out looking for anything in particular. Truth be told, Derek had just been wandering around town. Without the gym to go to, Derek wasn’t sure what to do with himself. 

Sure, there was technically nothing keeping him from going back there, but then again, after what Kate had done in front of all those people, Derek couldn’t bear the thought of having to see the looks on the other trainers faces again. Nor could he face Kate again. She had made it clear how she really felt about him and on top of everything else the gym had just become...tainted.

That’s how Derek had ended up in the Cafe, confronted with a wall of pastries and sweets he hadn’t seen the like of since he was a teenager. Of course, then he had eaten the cake. Fuck, it was good.

Derek placed the bag on the kitchen counter and pulled out the rather hefty clamshell box. That cake he’d eaten already must have been well over 800 calories and it totally destroyed Derek’s macros for the day. He was gonna have to stick to lean protein for dinner and probably the next day to make up for it.

With a clang, Derek stepped onto the trash can pedal and popped open the lid. He picked up the box and held it over the empty can, fully intent on throwing it out, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the man...Stiles he said his name was...maybe it was his smile, or the way he was so surprised at how much Derek enjoyed his cake, or maybe it was the sparkle in his whiskey brown eyes as he offered Derek another slice, but Derek couldn’t bring himself to throw away the cake. It really had been quite the delicious dessert. Derek hadn’t eaten dessert in years. Kate never allowed sweets of any kind except occasionally fruit with yoghurt. 

Turning away from the trash can, Derek instead opened the refrigerator and slid the box onto the shelf. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t really eaten today aside from that cake, and as Derek looked at the sandwich meats and carrot sticks stacked in his fridge, he sighed. 

Resignedly, Derek quickly fixed himself a plate of meat and vegetables and took them back to the couch. Walking into his living room and plopping onto his couch, Derek turned on the TV and queued up Netflix. He apparently had a lot of shows to catch up on. 

An hour later, Derek’s stomach was still growling. He rubbed a hand over his abs thoughtfully, but quickly stopped when he felt a lash of pain from where Kate had struck him. 

“What do you want, piggy? Cake? Pie? Something else to put in your fat belly?” Kate’s voice rang through Derek’s mind. 

The memory of the torturous behaviour spurned him into motion, and he rocked to his feet and headed back to the kitchen. The slice of cake Stiles had given him was still sitting innocently in the fridge, and Dered was determined to enjoy it. 

He ate the cake for dessert. It was just as good as it had been in the cafe, though here in his loft there was no one to hear him moan.

That night, Derek went to bed with a full stomach for probably the first time in years, and slept soundly.


	2. Cannoli

The store bell chimed for the first time that hour.  
“I’ll be right with you!” Stiles called through the window, cursing under his breath as he pulled his fourth failed souffle from the oven. The second one had risen perfectly, but even by Stiles’ standards, had been too sweet. The subsequent recipe changes had resulted in sunken disasters.   
Sighing, he made his way out to the counter. “Sorry, what can I get for – Derek! Hey!”

He was happily surprised to see Derek had come back. He didn’t look any more at ease than he had the day before, still out of place clad all in athletic wear. Stiles barely knew the local gym, having stepped foot in it only once years ago. Derek must be a regular, Stiles figured, although going to a bakery right before, or after, a workout had to be counterproductive. Maybe it was just another cheat day. Derek definitely looked like he worked out enough to deserve one or two...or several. Seeing Derek today also meant he had probably finished the second slice of cake, which gave Stiles a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach he definitely was not going to think about at work. 

“How was the cake? Still good the second time?”

“It was really good.” Derek smiled, which for a few brief seconds relaxed his glaring eyebrows and softened his face and, yep, Stiles was officially in trouble. Derek could have everything in the café if he smiled like that.

“Thanks, man. We don’t get a lot of customers here, it’s nice to hear someone appreciates my culinary genius.” He grinned. “So what brings you back today? Want to try something else?”

“Please.” Derek was looking at the display case like he was memorizing each item. It was hard to judge what he would like, he never stopped and looked at one thing long enough for Stiles to see what caught his eye, but 

Stiles was determined to narrow down the options and find the dessert that would be the most appealing. Derek clearly had a sweet tooth when it came to chocolate. Next to try…maybe something a little less sweet. 

“Cannoli?”

“Sure.”

“You’re not allergic to nuts, are you?”

Derek shook his head. Stiles popped a cardboard box open and started grabbing one of each. “We’ve got classic, chocolate covered, chocolate, and espresso. I’ve tried different flavors in the past, but man, people get upset when you mess with the classics. Still, I’ve been thinking about making a chocolate hazelnut filling.”

“That sounds surprisingly good.”

“Yeah? If you come by again you can try a test batch if you give me your honest opinion. Don’t hold back. I stopped letting Scott help after ‘good’ mint filling that tasted like toothpaste.” 

He rang Derek up, with a generous discount when he realized he Derek had agreed to try a cannoli, singular, and Stiles didn’t give him a chance to protest the four cannoli now nestled in the box.

“The espresso one really goes best with coffee, but not on a day I’m making it. Erica said the machine would attract more customers and she’s the only one who’s managed to make a decent cup.” 

Derek took his change and the box. “Thanks, Stiles.”

He sat down in the same spot as last time. Stiles vanished into the kitchen to try batch six of his souffles. He only briefly stuck his head out to see how Derek was fairing. There were no audible satisfied groans, but Derek looked content , savoring each bite like he was committing the taste to memory. 

Stiles’ glances were becoming one increasingly long stare as he watched Derek finish off the classic cannoli and move on to the chocolate. Tearing his eyes away, he determinedly went back to cooking, shouting “Bye, Derek” when he heard the door open once more. 

***

Derek had left his loft that morning fully with the intent of getting some exercise. His calorie splurge the day before had left a lingering feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach from years of training and dieting. 

He started out jogging around the neighborhood, then gradually branched out, but when his feet started carrying him towards the gym, a hard course correction ended up bringing him outside of the almost hidden door and two small tables of Cafe Claudia again. 

The memory of the chocolate cake came unbidden to Derek’s mind and made his stomach growl. Derek placed a hand on his firm abdomen and looked at himself in the glass. His body was still “ridiculously trim” as his mother might put it, and for a moment he was thankful that his level of fitness meant that his jogging hadn’t made him break a sweat yet. But then he pushed that thought aside and sighed. 

He didn’t really need more sweets, did he?

Like a siren’s call, the smell of something freshly baked wafted toward him telling him that the answer was yes, and Derek almost unconsciously strode towards the door and walked inside.

The jingle of the bell was accompanied by a call of “be right with you!” from the kitchen, and something in 

Derek warmed as he recognized Stiles’s deep voice. Derek approached the counter, fully intent on knowing what he was going to order this time, but like the day before, the sheer variety of tantalizing treats overwhelmed Derek’s senses. It’d been so long since Derek had eaten any of this stuff that just looking at it produced both a deep seeded longing and a hint of self-imposed guilt.

“Sorry, what can I get for – Derek! Hey!”

Derek glanced up as Stiles walked out of the kitchen. Derek let his eyes trace the man’s upturned nose and his speckling of moles before he caught sight of a smear of something across his cheek and quickly looked back at the display case.

“How was the cake? Still good the second time?” Stiles asked.

Derek looked back up and caught sight of Stiles wiping at his cheek, only to smear more of whatever he had been making across his face. Derek smiled at the action.

“It was really good,” he said, and found that he meant it wholeheartedly.

Stiles’s answering grin only intensified the warmth spreading through Derek, as did Stiles’s descriptions of his ‘culinary genius.’ When Stiles offered to help Derek pick out something else to try, Derek could only answer, “Please.” 

Derek looked back down at the case and began to wonder what other hidden delights he might find in this bakery.

“Cannoli?” Stiles offered. 

Derek let his eyes roam to the long, cream filled tubes. “Sure.”

“You aren’t allergic to nuts, are you?” Stiles asked as he slid open the bakery case. 

Derek held back a snort and shook his head. He most definitely didn’t have a problem with nuts. 

Stiles didn’t seem to notice Derek’s difficulty, instead going into a description of both his current and planned recipes. 

“That sounds surprisingly good,” Derek said in response to Stiles’s waxing on the potential of a hazelnut chocolate filled cannoli. 

Stiles offered to let Derek taste a test-batch, which surprised Derek slightly as they didn’t really know each other that well, but Stiles didn’t seem bothered by that, going into a story about his friend Scott and something tasting like mint toothpaste. Derek watched as Stiles seemed to unknowingly pick one of each of the flavors of cannoli from the case and place them into a cardboard box. For a moment Derek thought of stopping him, but then inexplicably held back. Derek didn’t have to eat them all right now, did he? He could always save some of them for later. 

“The espresso one really goes best with coffee, but not on a day I’m making it. Erica said the machine would attract more customers and she’s the only one who’s managed to make a decent cup.” Stiles said.   
Derek smiled and handed Stiles his credit card, then took the card back along with the full box. 

“Thanks, Stiles,” Derek offered. 

Stiles smiled back. 

Derek turned from the counter and took a seat at the same table as he had sat at the day before. Popping open the cardboard flaps, Derek looked down into the row of Cannoli. His stomach grumbled again and Derek quickly picked up the “classic” italian treat for a taste. 

The crunchy tube held a surprising amount of cream, and as the dough crumbled around his lips, Derek found himself savoring the delightful treat more and more. Almost too soon, he found that he had finished the first cannoli, and so he picked up the next, and then the next. After only 15 minutes Derek was surprised to find that he had not only completely finished all four of the desserts, but he had also missed Stiles going in and out of the kitchen at least once. 

Embarrassed by his gluttonous behavior, Derek quickly wiped his face and threw away his trash. He tried to pop out of the door unnoticed but at the sound of the bell, heard faintly as he left, “bye, Derek!”

Derek felt his cheeks warm as a blush crept up his face. His stomach was now full and somewhat bloated, which pretty much killed any desire Derek now had to finish his jog. Besides, continuing the exercise might mean he could run into a former client or someone who had witnessed his humiliation. The best solution then was obviously to head back to his apartment. His couch and Netflix were waiting.


	3. Cannoli part 2

Stiles had been popping his head out of the window each time the doorbell chimed, but so far, no sign of the grumpy, chiseled, gorgeous-eyed customer. Stiles didn’t know why he was disappointed. It wasn’t as if customers usually made repeat visits to his shop. Even seeing the man twice was lucky, given Stiles didn’t know if the man lived around the cafe or was just passing through. All the same, Stiles had started to work on the latest cannoli creation he had promised. It would be a good addition to the bakery menu and it might give him another reason to talk to Derek, without watching him awkwardly through the kitchen window.

When Derek did enter the shop, Stiles greeted him far too enthusiastically, missing the mixing bowl and splattering an egg on the table. Choosing to leave the mess for later, Stiles headed out to properly greet him.

“So, dealer’s choice again? Lemon tarts?”

“Anything you suggest.”

Stiles pumped his fist. “Great choice! Not at all because I made too many this morning…I had like, six of them already. I promise, they’re good.”

He slid a couple on a plate, waited for Derek’s card to go through, then handed him back his card and the plate with a smile. Going back to the kitchen, Stiles cleaned up his eggy mess, then forced himself to wait at least a couple of minutes to let Derek eat in peace before going back out. 

“Hey, Derek, do you have some extra time today? I need an opinion on these chocolate-hazelnut cannoli.”

“You actually made them?”

“Sure. Figured if you stopped by again and wanted to give your brutal opinion,” he grinned, “I need someone to tell me if they’re menu worthy. No pressure though, if you don’t want to or have to head out or something.” 

“I- no, I have time.”

“Thanks! I don’t want to serve the same macaroons and cupcakes like every café ,you know? I want to have some crazy recipes- see if something can draw in some more customers. I’ve been trying to rotate the selection every couple of months.” 

“How long have you been open?”

“Almost five years.”

“Huh. I’ve never seen this place before.”

Stiles' face fell. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that. People who had lived in the town for all their lives still didn’t know Café Claudia existed. Stiles had set up every social media account he could think of, and asked every customer to tell their friends, but that was the only advertising he could afford. His location did nothing to help raise awareness. The café was far from the central town square, or any big business. Even from the road, his shop was barely visible. Stiles had taken the first spot he could afford, from the first landlord who was willing to rent out a space to a college-aged kid with no previous business history.

He was doing everything possible to bring in customers. It had taken him months to clean and remodel this space into the quaint bakery it was now. Stiles went to every local business in town begging them to display his fliers in their windows on counters. Dedicated hours to fixing his little menu board outside when it got knocked sideways by the wind or a careless passerby. It was far from his ideal vision for Café Claudia, but it was something.

“I wish you were the first person to say that. Even people who live around here walk right by. I’m saving up to move into a bigger location, but rent around here isn’t exactly cheap.”

“I do live around here. But I don’t – I don’t usually eat stuff like this.”

“Obviously.” He gestured wildly to Derek’s torso. Derek looked uncomfortable, set his fork down on his mostly finished plate, and hunched over ever so slightly, crossing his arms. Stiles winced. He hadn’t meant to imply that he was judging Derek or his diet. In his experience, people that clearly worked so hard to maintain their physique didn’t normally make a habit out of eating desserts. “Not – no you look good! You just…don’t seem like the type who eats a lot from bakeries. Which I clearly don’t have the willpower for, but, kudos to you, dude. What finally brought you in?”

“Maybe it was time for a change.”

There was clearly more going on to the answer than that, from the way Derek hesitated before he answered, still sitting stiffly with his arms crossed, but Stiles didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by sticking his foot in his mouth for a second time.

“I won’t make you regret your decision. Now, give me like ten minutes and I’ll have some whipped chocolate hazelnut cannolis for you to try.”

***

Derek sat uncomfortably in the empty cafe while Stiles clanked around the kitchen. He didn’t mean to get so defensive, but the wounds were still fresh.  
Of course he didn’t look like he ate baked goods. With Kate around, Derek hadn’t even seen a baked good since his nephew’s birthday three years ago. Outside of The Cookie, that is. The straw that broke the camel’s back, as it were. 

But Derek didn’t want to think about her. Not here. Not now. He’d specifically come to the bakery to avoid letting his thoughts wander to her. 

It had been hell trying to get out of bed that morning. A crappy night’s sleep combined with the empty feeling of waking up alone had made Derek feel like getting up was a mistake, so he’d pulled a pillow over his head and let himself fall back into unconsciousness. Really, it was only when he had woken up hungry that Derek thought of Stiles and his bakery. And using thoughts of chocolate cake and cannoli, Derek had pulled himself from under his covers and thrown on clothes enough to be presentable to walk the several blocks over.  
Now though, here he was again, feeling down and anxious. 

Derek used his fork to pick up a stray piece of lemon tart crust and put it into his mouth. He was savoring the flavor of the pastry when he heard a yelp from the kitchen. 

“Stiles?” Derek called.

No answer. 

“Stiles?!” Derek tried again, louder. 

“Mmm’okay…” came a slurred response. 

Derek quickly got to his feet and made his way behind the counter. When he pushed open the swinging kitchen door, he was treated to a scene of calamity. Stiles lay flat on the floor, his white shirt smeared with chocolate filling, along with the floor, table, and at least one wall. Several cannoli shells lay spread around him, some in pieces, as he held a hand to his head. 

“Stiles!” Derek cried, racing to his side, “are you okay?” 

Stiles winced in pain as he tried to sit up. 

Derek’s hands immediately shot out to help him, one going around his shoulders on the back, and the other steadying him from the front. “Whoa, go slow, okay?” He murmured softly. “What happened?”

“...Slipped,” Stiles said, looking down at the mess around him. “Awww, man, I ruined your cannoli!” 

Derek snorted. “Don’t worry about that right now,” He soothed, “Did you hurt your head?”

Stiles lifted his hand from where he had it pressed to his temple. “I don’t think I hit it, but mm’dizzy.” 

Derek helped Stiles sit all the way up and then reached into his pocket for his cell phone. 

“I’m gonna call an ambulance, okay? You need to go to the hospital.”

Stiles immediately flailed at him, “No! Dude, stop!” 

Derek leveled Stiles with a flat look. “You just fell and could have hit your head. You might have a concussion.”

“No.” Stiles replied firmly. “If you call 911, my dad’ll find out and he’ll go all crazy about it!”

“How would your dad find out?” Derek asked. 

“He’s the Sheriff,” Stiles said. 

“...Ah,” Derek replied, “I see.”

Stiles tried to pull himself up further but only ended up swaying drunkenly, his hand going back to his head. 

“Well we still need to get you to the hospital,” Derek chided him. 

Stiles shook his head, then grimaced at the action. “Call Melissa.”

Derek furrowed his eyebrows. “Who?”

“Melissa. Scott’s mom. She’s a nurse.” Stiles said. 

“Okay, what’s her number?” Derek asked. 

Stiles tried to slide his phone out of his pocket, but the action sent him teetering back. 

Derek quickly caught him and brought him back vertical. “Here, let me,” Derek offered, sliding his hand into Stiles’s pants to retrieve his phone. He did his best to ignore the way that being this close to Stiles made his blood pump a little harder. 

Sliding out the phone and holding it up for Stiles to unlock, Derek watched as the other man squinted at the screen, then pecked at it as if it were moving. The act really began to worry Derek. 

After a few moments, Stiles had the phone unlocked and Melissa’s number pulled up on the screen. Derek quickly pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear. After a few rings, a voice answered at the other end. 

“Stiles?” the woman’s voice answered, “What’s wrong?”

“Um, hi,” Derek started, “you don’t know me, but I’m a...friend...of Stiles’s, and he just fell in the kitchen of his cafe…”

“Is he bleeding? Is he conscious?” The woman cut across, her voice business-like. 

“He’s not bleeding that I can see, and he is conscious,” Derek answered. 

“Hi Melissa,” Stiles called out.

Derek shook his head in amused disbelief. “He’s complaining about being dizzy, though. I wanted to call an ambulance for him but…”

“...But he wouldn’t let you because he didn’t want his dad to find out,” Melissa finished. 

“Exactly.” Derek replied. 

Melissa sighed on the other end of the line. “Would you be able to bring him to BH General?”

Derek grimaced. “I would, but my car’s a 15 minute walk away, and I hate to leave him alone.” 

“Got it,” Melissa said, her tone resigned, “alright, I’ll be there in 5 minutes. Keep him conscious, and try not to move him too much.”

There was a click on the call, and then silence. Derek looked at the phone and found the call had ended. “Okay then,” he said to himself. 

Derek handed Stiles back his phone. “Melissa’s on her way,” he told Stiles.

“She’s gonna be pissed...whoa!” Stiles tipped backwards again, Derek catching him.

Derek looked at Stiles, then looked around the kitchen. There wasn’t really anything to put behind Stiles to prop him up, and Derek didn’t want to move the man and risk injuring him further. With a sigh, Derek moved behind Stiles and slid his legs to either side, propping him up against his chest.

“Whoa, dude!” Stiles exclaimed, “this feels like third date material at least!”

Derek grunted, doing his best to ignore the implications. He placed his hands at Stiles’s sides and felt the slight softening of flesh there. 

“How…” Derek cleared his throat, his mouth having gone dry, “...how long have you owned the bakery?”

“Five years,” Stiles answered, relaxing back against Derek.

“Oh, right, you told me that. How old were you when you started it?”

“21,” Stiles said, “but I’ve been baking since I was’little kid. My mom taugh’ me.”

“Wow, that’s young!” Derek said. “So that means you’re 26?” 

“Yeah. M’birthdays in March. When’s your birthday?” 

“Oh. Um, it’s Christmas.”

“You have a Christmas Birthday,” Stiles asked, trying to turn to look at Derek. 

Derek kept Stiles facing away from him though. “Yes,” he answered. 

“Hmmm, not much of a Santa Claus though. Too skinny.”

“What?”

“You’re too skinny! Gotta fatten you to be Santa Claus! Feed you lots of cookies!” 

Derek had become worried at the strange track Stiles had taken with the conversation. Thankfully, the bell above the door rang at that moment, followed by a familiar voice calling out, “Stiles?”

“Back here!” Derek answered, sliding out from behind Stiles but still careful not to let him fall back.

A dark haired woman with tan skin in scrubs came through the kitchen door. She immediately knelt in front of Stiles and began looking him over.

“Alright, Stiles, what happened this time?” The woman asked, then looked at Derek. “I take it you’re the friend who called?”

Derek nodded at her. 

“Wasn’t doing anything bad, Melissa,” Stiles slurred, “just started feeling dizzy and then I fell.” He looked down at the chocolate and cannoli crumbs all over him. “Aww, man, I ruined your cannoli, Derek!”

Derek looked at Melissa worriedly. “That’s the second time he’s said that. And he was kinda topic hopping too.”

“Hmm,” Melissa answered, taking a pen light out of her pocket and checking Stiles’s eyes. “Did you hit your head, Stiles?”

“Nuh uh,” Stiles replied. “Just felt dizzy all of the sudden and fell.”

“Okay. Well, you don’t seem to have a concussion.”  
Melissa looked over at Derek and then back at Stiles.  
“Stiles, what have you eaten today?”

“Had a lemon tart this morning.” Stiles said. 

“When?”

“‘Bout three?”

“And did you eat anything else?”

“Not really. Was too busy.”

“And the day before?”

“Some cookies.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Melissa sighed through her nose. She looked up at Derek. “I think he’ll be okay. He’s done this before where he doesn’t eat enough and then works himself too much so his blood sugar drops. I still want to get him checked at the ER though.”

Stiles was looking down at his shirt. He dragged a finger through the chocolate goop and stuck it in his mouth.  
“Mmmm, these are gonna be good.” He hummed.

Melissa shook her head. “Come on, Stiles, lets get you to my car. Derek, can you make sure everything in here is off?”

Derek looked around, a little intimidated. “Um…”

“Okay, then can you take Stiles outside while I lock up?”  
Derek nodded. 

While Melissa started flicking switches around them, Derek carefully pulled Stiles up from under his armpits and began walking him through the front of the cafe.

“Wow, dude, way to make a guy feel like a damsel,” Stiles said. 

“You’re not a damsel, Stiles,” Derek said, “damsels are in distress. You’re in pants.”

“Hah! Oh my god! You have a sense of humor!” Stiles yelled, pulling Derek somewhat off kilter. 

Derek straightened them and maneuvered them to the front door. “Of course I have a sense of humor. I eat your food, don’t I?”

“Oh my god! Twice! Twice in one day!”

Derek grinned while the other man chortled. He carefully led Stiles out the door and out to where a car sat waiting. A moment later, Melissa emerged behind them.  
“Okay, all locked up. You didn’t have anything inside did you?” She asked Derek. 

Derek shook his head no. 

Melissa walked around them and pulled open the passenger door, then helped Derek load Stiles into the car. 

“Sorry you didn’t get your cannoli, Derek. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Don’t worry about it, Stiles. Just get better okay?”  
Melissa closed the door and walked quickly to the drivers side. 

“He’ll be alright, won’t he?” Derek asked.

“He’ll be fine, until he remembers the mess he has to clean up.” Melissa answered, sliding into the car.  
Derek smiled wanly. He stood by and watched as the car started, then drove away down the block before turning out of sight. 

Derek sighed, then looked down at himself. He had smears of the same chocolate all over him and should really go take a shower. 

As he began to walk back to his apartment, he collected a finger full of chocolate and sucked it between his lips. The flavor was delicious.


	4. Cannoli Part 3

Eating a proper meal and getting to sleep for eight hours, for the first time in months, did wonders. His headache and dizziness were gone and all that was left was a lingering sense of guilt for having worried his father and Melissa and Derek. Especially Derek, who despite never experiencing Stiles in such a state before, had stayed calm and made sure he was taken care of. Thinking about it gave Stiles warm, fuzzy feelings underneath his embarrassment and a desperate urge to repay him. 

All Stiles had to offer was copious amounts of baked goods. Which is why he was at the cafe before dawn, remaking his destroyed cannoli filling and an assortment of other apology pastries. When everything was in the oven or cooling he started cleaning. Erica walked in for her usual shift and found him mopping up the last of the chocolate. 

“Should I ask?”

Stiles told her the entire embarrassing story as he started filling and boxing his treats. Erica, unsurprisingly, found the whole thing hilarious, once she had made sure Stiles was alright. 

“So you…”

“Got dizzy, collapsed, and said a lot of embarrassing things.”

“To Derek.” 

“To grumpy, expressive eyebrows, hot-like-burning, Derek?”

“Yes!” Stiles groaned. “Grumpy and hot and has a sense of humor. And I collapsed on him, got chocolate all over him, accused him of trying to get to third base, and I’m fairly certain I said I wanted to fatten him like Santa Clause? He’s never coming in again!”

“Well, at least you were being honest..”

“He doesn’t need to know that!”

In addition to spending a good deal of time this morning regretting what he had said, the rest of his mind kept drifting to thoughts of himself and Derek. Like Stiles pressed up against a softer Derek, whose belly pressed into the small of his back, all the while gripping Stiles’ similarly soft sides. Or Derek sitting in a sleigh, ass as wide as the bench seat, red jacket open to show off his furry, hefty round belly resting on thick thighs. Everytime Stiles tried to shake the images out of his head, another one appeared. 

“It isn’t fair. The hottest guy I’ve ever met, and he grabs my love handles while I’m leaning against his wall of muscle. And I was too dizzy to even appreciate it.”

Erica burst out laughing. She was still giggling when the door chimed and she vanished out front. Stiles froze, straining to hear who it was, but after a few minutes, the door swung shut again and Erica reappeared. Stiles let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. 

“Stiles, relax. He could have left your ass on the floor and instead he held you up and waited for Melissa.” 

“I know. He seems like a good guy. I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t. Just give him some chocolate cake,” Erica laughed, “he seemed to like that.”

Stiles threw a spatula at her. She ducked out of the way, just as the door chimed again and she escaped out front. 

“Stiles!”

“Yeah?”

“Get out here, I’m going to lunch!”

Stiles went racing up to the front to see Erica walking past Derek and headed out of the door. “But it’s - ”

“ - plans with Boyd! Bye!”

Derek was watching them both in amusement. “You are planning on eating today too, I hope?”

“Yes. Got my lunch in the fridge. I am so, so sorry for doing that to you yesterday, Derek.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s good I was here.”

“I got chocolate all over you!”

“That was my favorite shirt,” Derek deadpanned. “Chocolate will never wash out.”

“Haha. I liked you more when you weren’t as funny,” Stiles laughed. “Seriously though, thank you. For, you know, not leaving me to pass out. Or hit my head. And dealing with my incoherent trains of thought. Concussed Stiles is even worse than low blood sugar Stiles. I owe you one.”

“Stiles, you don’t owe me anything. I wasn’t going to leave you like that...”

“You could have. Which is why I owe you for staying and saving me from another concussion. Speaking of which…” He vanished into the kitchen and grabbed the box of cannolis and a second box of assorted pastries. “I have the cannolis I promised.” 

Derek eyed the boxes skeptically. “This is too much..” 

“Dude, I had to do something! Chocolate is the best apology!”

“Not part of your scheme to make me the next Santa?” 

Stiles could feel his face burning. He had been holding on to a very faint hope that Derek hadn’t caught everything he said in his dazed ramblings. “I wasn’t trying to - I mean, I’m not trying…. You are too fit to play Santa - but… it’s .not like I would -I was just saying, if you were to be Santa.”

”Which I’m not.”

“You have a Christmas birthday. You could be.”

“Santa doesn't have a Christmas birthday.”

“How do you know that, Santa?”

“You’re not getting any gifts this year.”

Stiles laughed. “What if I trade you for cookies?”

“Santa gets free cookies.”

“But then I could say I was Santa’s exclusive cookie supplier,” Stiles mused. “That would be a good business. Maybe I should think about saying that closer to the holidays...”

Another customer entered. Derek moved closer to the door to get out of the way. “I should go.”

Stiles handed the two boxes to Derek. “Seriously, thank you. If you don’t want them, bring them to work or family or something. Let me know what you think of the cannolis!”

“Thanks. I’m really happy you’re okay, Stiles.” 

He slipped out the door as Stiles called after him, “See you tomorrow!” 

***

Derek felt a little silly walking home with two large bakery boxes, as if passers by might be able to tell that all the baked goods inside were intended for him, not for a party or an office. Thankfully his loft wasn’t too far away. 

When he arrived home, he immediately slid the heavier box of non-cannoli bakery items into his fridge, then took the cannoli to the couch. He queued up the next episode of “The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina,” a ridiculous show about a bunch of high school kids dealing with the supernatural, and began to delicately eat the cannoli.

The hazelnut chocolate filling was as delicious as it had tasted the day before, and in between the amazing pastries and the teen drama, several hours passed. When Derek finally finished the last cannoli (of the dozen Stiles had packed for him!) Derek suddenly became aware of how full he was. 

Rubbing a hand across his bloated stomach, Derek groaned. Why had he let himself eat so many! 

Small burps surfaced from his ministrations, and Derek could only stare down at where his firm belly pooched out under his pecs. He was certainly no Santa, Derek thought to himself, though he could be on the way.  
Something inside Derek tingled at that thought. 

Memories of how Stiles had told him he would become Santa, the softness Derek had felt around Stiles’s own waist...all things that added up to an intense feeling of attraction and arousal. 

Letting his hand drift lower, Derek palmed the hardness that was growing in his running pants. He gasped and burped again, thinking of Stiles and his nimble fingers making cookies, and what those fingers might feel like on his tight, full belly. He thought of how intimate it had felt to have Stiles between his legs, how simple but sexy it felt to have the other man leaning up against him, and how sensual the blooms of love handles had felt at Stiles’s waist. 

As he let himself daydream of Stiles, of kissing him, of how his pants hugged his pert round butt, of how his eyes sparkled with mischief, Derek reached under his waistband and began tugging himself off. 

It took a remarkably short time for Derek to bring himself to climax, though Derek attributes that to his already overstimulated state.

Falling back into the couch, Derek sighed. His fingers still played at his bloated stomach as he relaxed. He really should try to not eat as many sweets, part of him thought. 

Maybe he could spend more time out? That way he wouldn’t have as much time to sit at home and eat. Hell, maybe he could spend more time at the cafe. People did that, right? Hung out at cafes?

Besides, if he was hanging out there, talking to Stiles and Erica, maybe he wouldn’t have as many sweets to eat.

Right?


	5. Cupcake Hell

Stiles was dealing with a crowd of customers when Derek came in. The local middle school was having some event, either a bake sale, or maybe a party, from what Stiles could surmise, and a host of desperate last minute parents were flooding into the store. No one had called ahead to place an order. His supply of cupcakes and cakes were being depleted faster than he could put out new batches. Flustered, and very aware he had frosting and flour everywhere from his apron to his face and hair, he rang Derek up for a less in demand dessert. Stiles almost dropped the plate stacked up with peaches and cream cookies in his haste to hand it to Derek and start serving the next customer. 

Derek had finished the cookies by the time the crowd had finally dissipated. Stiles threw his apron off and sank down on the seat across from him, trying to clean the frosting off his arms.

“Sorry about that. School events are the worst. Don’t get me wrong I’m happy to have so many customers, but no one calls ahead and then they get upset when we run out of cupcakes. What bakery can have hundreds of cupcakes in stock everyday?! It’s just me and two ovens!”

“Erica off today?”

“Yeah, she works here just to help me out. She’s getting her doctorate in occupational therapy, which keeps her busy. If she doesn’t have class she’ll cover morning shifts and holidays mostly.” 

“That’s impressive.”

Stiles smiled proudly. “She loves it. Her focus is on pediatrics, it’s going to be the perfect job for her. I’ve never asked - what do you do? We totally have wifi here if you ever wanted to work or study or anything.”

He and Erica had made several guesses about what Derek did during the day. He never came in at the same time and was always dressed in his casual gym wear. They speculated he could be a graduate student or a professor, fitness trainer, or was an author or graphic designer that allowed him to workout and stop in the cafe on his own schedule. There were also the possibilities that Stiles liked to keep an open mind about - Santa Claus and Batman being some of them.

“I’m a trainer. Or, well, I used to be. Haven’t really been to the gym in over a week,” Derek said, his body language again taking on the semi-hunched form. “My ex and I ran the gym over on second. But then she...I…” 

Derek went quiet for a moment, then looked back up at Stiles. “She said some really nasty things to me in front of everyone else, and It was kind of the last straw, so I broke up with her.”

Derek leaned back in his chair, his arms wrapping around his chest like he was protecting himself. “I couldn’t really go back there after we broke up. So, as for what I do, I’ve been doing nothing, I guess.” 

“I’m sorry, Derek, you don’t deserve that.” Stiles wanted nothing more than to punch his ex. The breakup, and losing his business, was clearly still painful and on the front of Derek’s mind. The look of defeat and insecurity in Derek’s face was heartbreaking. Stiles wanted nothing more than to wrap him in a blanket and feed him cupcakes and make sure this sweet, gorgeous man in front of him was always appreciated and smiling. 

“I know everything will work out for you. Shit happens, but...I like to think it’s for a reason. I never thought I’d open a bakery, but, here we are.”

Derek looked immensely relieved to change the topic. “Why did you? You said your mom taught you to cook?”

“She was amazing.We weren’t exactly rich, so she made everything from scratch and knew how to turn leftovers into family meals. She’d enter her recipes in contests a lot, won a few small, local ones and then won a national Pillsbury competition. My mom...she put it all in a fund for me. For college. But after - once she died, I couldn’t go off to college and leave my dad alone. I used some of the money for culinary school and the rest I put into this place.”

Even if the anger Stiles felt from her unfairly early death faded with each passing year, the grief never lessened. Stiles wiped quickly at his eyes, then realized he had smeared frosting further around his face. “Damn it. That’s it. No more cupcakes this week.”

“The peaches were delicious, if it helps.”

Stiles smiled softly. “Thanks, Derek. Oh! Did you get a chance to try the cannolis? What did you think?”

“They were delicious. I finished the box,” Derek admitted. “You should add them to the menu.” 

Another group of women entered the shop. Stiles had never been so happy to see soccer moms in his life. Fifteen infuriating minutes of trying to pick out only desserts with “the most frosting” and the thoughts of Derek greedily finishing off a dozen cannolis, wondering if he could have eaten even more with Stiles feeding him, were driven temporarily out of his head.

***

Derek watched as Stiles bounced around behind the counter, from display case to register, and back again. The parade of soccer moms and the occasional single father seemed to move continuously through the store, and Derek couldn’t help but smile at Stiles’s animated antics as the man boxed dozen after dozen of baked goods. Maybe this would be the push that Stiles needed to get more customers and move? 

In any case, as lunch time quickly approached, Derek could tell Stiles was starting to flag. Thankfully the long line of bake sale cheaters was dwindling. 

When a small break in customers appeared, Derek jumped to the end of the line. 

“Welcome to Cafe Claudia, what can I get...oh, Derek!” Stiles shook from his pattern, “what’s up, dude? Did you need something else?” 

“Yeah, I need you to take a break and eat some lunch,” Derek answered. 

Stiles looked down at his heavily exhausted supply of cupcakes and cookies. “Dude, I gotta restock,” Stiles said, almost apologetically.

Derek grunted in frustration. “And what if you end up collapsing again, covered in...I don’t know,...icing?”

Stiles smiled. “Awww, dude! You’re worried about me!”

“Of course I am,” Derek blushed. “I didn’t like seeing you like that.”

It was Stiles’s turn to blush. He looked down at the case, then up at the clock. 

“Okay, dude, I’ve got a deal for you. I’ll call in lunch for both of us at Casey’s Diner. You go pick it up while I throw some cupcakes in the oven, then we can eat lunch together.”

Derek blinked at Stiles, then furrowed his eyebrows. “This feels like a trick.”

“No trick dude,” Stiles said, raising his hands in mock surrender, then he leaned across the counter, “besides, I gotta get you to try Casey’s curly fries. And then I need you to taste their pie and tell me how it compares to mine,” Stiles said conspiratorially. 

Derek blushed harder, but smirked. “Fine, but you have to take a full hour break.” Derek held his hand out to Stiles. “Deal?”

Stiles looked down at the hand, then up at Derek’s smirking face, and answered it with a smirk of his own. “Deal,” he said as he shook Derek’s hand.


	6. Burgers and Pie

“What did you order?” Derek asked as he dropped both milkshakes and the oversized bag on the table. 

“I got us curly fries, burgers, pie, and the milkshakes.” He tossed his apron on a hook behind the register and flipped the rarely used sign on the door to “Out for lunch! Back in 1 Hour!” then took a seat across from Derek. The food smelled heavenly, making his stomach rumble as he realized how hungry he was. 

“Too much? If you don’t want it -I’ll eat it. I love Casey’s.”

“Do you go there a lot?”

“ I usually don’t take the time to sit and eat.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Stiles tossed his straw wrapper at him and grinned. “But, would eat there everyday if I could, and I’d gain like, a thousand pounds, so, Erica stops me. They make the best burgers and fries.”

“And the best pie?”

“I stand by mine, but it’s a close second. Completely unbiased opinion, of course.”

“Of course.” Derek laughed. “I promise to be an impartial judge.”

“Damn and I hoped you could be bribed.”

Derek unwrapped the burger, took a bite, and let out a contented noise. 

“Told you.” 

***

Derek left when Stiles’ hour lunch break was over. He had been an enthusiastic fan of Casey’s, like Stiles had predicted, and they had both polished off their two burgers, milkshake, and fries. He silently vowed to eat lunch more often with Derek, who, by his own admittance, had not eaten at any diners or fast-food establishments in several years. There were dozens of dishes and restaurants locally that Stiles wanted him to try, to see that private, pleased little smile go across his face as he took a bite.

Derek, who had spent the morning trying various pastries that Stiles had handed him, took the pie home with him, along with half of a pie from Cafe Claudia, carefully wrapped in a box. Stiles had dutifully gone back to work, flipping the sign to Open and dealing with another small rush of customers before finally starting to shut down for the night. On an impulse, before leaving and locking up, Stiles took the other half of Derek’s pie home with him. 

Stiles sat on his couch, not bothering to cut the pie knowing he would easily finish it, wondering if Derek was doing the same. He clearly had a sizable appetite and a serious sweet tooth. It was a shame Derek didn’t indulge enough. If Stiles had a say, Derek would be ordering burgers and fries from Casey's daily, in addition to sampling Stiles’ menu. 

He took another bite of pie, imaging Derek groaning in satisfaction as he took bite after bite, barely looking at what he was eating, just mindlessly gorging on anything Stiles placed in front of him. The chiseled jawline becoming less and less pronounced with each bite, until it was completely obscured by round cheeks and a prominent double chin. Stiles handing Derek another pie, which he could easily rest on his rotund gut, tank top rising up inch by inch as he ate and his belly expanded. Derek’s shorts visibly stretching, his lower half inching out with each plate he finishes, ass swelling and spilling over the chair, eventually surrendering to the now enormously flabby man sitting on it and collapsing. A massively obese Derek on the floor, still happily eating, as Stiles handed him a plate piled high with eclairs….


	7. Brownies

Three weeks had passed since Derek had first set foot into Cafe Claudia, and anyone who had known Derek as a trainer would definitely have noticed a change in him. 

Spending so much time around Stiles (most of his time really) had Derek smiling a lot more. He could still glare a piece of cake into submission if need be, at least according to Stiles, but in truth he was more content to dominate said cake by eating it and making the plate it was on look like it had never even existed. 

Since he had started spending most of his day every day in the cafe, Stiles had begun plying him with a never-ending parade of samples. Not that Derek minded. Stiles was a very talented pastry chef and it really warmed something in Derek that Stiles trusted him enough to give feedback on his experiments. And not every experiment was a success. 

The nutella filled soft pretzels, while good in theory, had ended up being too messy to be practical. Derek had ended up almost covered in gooey chocolate spread that he had to lick off himself, and apparently Stiles had had some sort of accident in the back kitchen because of them too, so they were very quickly eighty-sixed. And Derek hadn’t been as fond of the quadruple chocolate brownies as Stiles had hoped. “Why mess with a classic?” He’d asked.

And in the middle of all this, there were the lunches. Stiles seemed, at least to Derek, to be having Derek try food from every counter service restaurant, diner, and greasy spoon in town. Of course, Stiles’s recommendations were always impeccable, though none of the desserts they ordered stood up to Stiles’s baking. The way Stiles blushed when Derek said so was probably one of the most adorable things Derek had ever seen. 

And when he wasn’t tasting Stiles’s goodies or his recommendations at the cafe, Derek was eating at the loft. Stiles always made sure that Derek went home with a box of what he assured Derek were “day old pastries,” though Derek found, more than once, that his boxes would include treats Stiles had made specially that morning. 

All those extra calories had begun to add up. Derek’s once rock-hard abs had begun to soften into a small belly pooch that pushed out slightly on all his t-shirts and tank tops. His tight obliques had begun to blossom into tiny love handles that rolled over the waistband of his jogging pants or basketball shorts. And his already round ass had grown from its formerly firm shape to have a slight jiggle.

Oddly enough, his change in shape went unnoticed by Derek. He had been so wrapped up in his budding relationship with Stiles that he didn’t pay any attention to his growing body. And with the amount of time he was spending surrounded by baked goods, it’s not entirely surprising that Derek put on weight. 

Not that Derek had just sat around eating, of course. Most days he brought an ancient laptop into the shop with him and used the time he wasn’t chatting with Stiles to browse for new jobs and catch up on Netflix on the cafe’s WiFi. Sometimes during lunch Stiles would even watch with him, though he refused to let Derek wait for him to watch the next episode. He would usually ply Derek with another plate of treats and tell him to enjoy. Though lately his eyes would linger on Derek’s body, something that made Derek immediately feel warm, though he never said anything back. 

Maybe someday, when his life wasn’t such a mess. For now, he would continue his job search while he assisted Stiles as an unofficial taste tester.

***

Now that Derek and his laptop were regulars to the café, Stiles had gotten the job searching portion of the day down to a science. Derek got more “glare-y” and frustrated than usual during his pre-lunch job hunt and stress eating brownies seemed to be his best solution. He made sure there was a fresh batch ready to go on a plate by Derek’s laptop as he worked on applications. It seemed to lessen the glaring and Stiles could always tell how it was going by how angrily Derek was cramming brownies in his mouth.

Today was not one of the better days. Stiles had looked over a couple of times and seen Derek on his phone, making calls that always ended quickly, or sighing and scrolling through job sites. Stiles had his own phone out as soon as he was customer-free, taking his customary seat across from Derek, who had brownie crumbs down his front.

There was a softness around his waist now that definitely hadn’t been there when they first met. It was hardly noticeable, only obvious because Derek had been so trim and still wore his tight-fitting tank tops. Stiles had to force himself to stare at the job listings staring up at him, instead of trying to catalogue all the places Derek was slowly accumulating chub.

“This looks promising – ‘Fitness director, responsible for management duties and coaching other trainers.’”

“I’d rather not go back to training.”

“Okay, how about…. ‘general manager, oversees all day to day activities.’ Looks like you’d be in the office, not training. ‘At least one-year previous fitness related experience required.’”

“- and a 4-year bachelor’s degree in a fitness related field.”

“Eh, you have a lot of fitness experience, at least 5 years, right? I’m sure if it’s even a degree was sort of related, that would be okay.”

“I never finished college, Stiles.” Derek said wearily. “This is pointless. It’s been weeks – I haven’t heard back from anyone.”

“Maybe it’s a sign they’re not the right jobs for you.”

“Or them telling me I’m underqualified.”

“Dude, no offense, but would you really be happy as a sales associate somewhere? You can’t glare customers into submission.”

“It’s better than nothing. I can’t sit around and watch Netflix all day.”

“Better than doing a job you hate.” Stiles realized right after the words left his mouth they sounded insensitive. Derek had his own business for years, that had to be his dream job, until his ex had ruined it. If Stiles lost Claudia’s Cafe, he would never be happy in another job, so why would Derek be any different? “That - I didn’t mean it like that, Derek, I’m sorry. Would you ever want to open another gym?”

“No. It was something Kate wanted, not…It was really her thing. I was just good at it.”

“Have you thought about finishing your degree?”

Derek nodded, but didn’t elaborate, so Stiles decided it was as good a time as any to bring up the idea that had been floating around for awhile. 

“You could always work here. Until you find something else? I- clearly I have no customers so the pay isn’t great, but you can have all the leftover desserts. It would be awesome to have someone else at the register and have your official input on the menu!”

***

Derek blinked at Stiles for a moment. “Work here?” He asked. 

Stiles nodded enthusiastically.

“What...what about Erica?”

“She really only works here to help me out,” Stiles replied. “Plus, if you decide to go back to school you could work part time.”

Derek thought it over. It would give him a reason to be here every day, so he wouldn’t feel as guilty. He didn’t really need the money, so that wouldn’t be a worry, but it would certainly mean he actually had a job again. And Stiles was right about going back to school. 

Derek closed his laptop. “Okay.”

Stiles sat up straighter. “Okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll work here.” Derek smiled.

Stiles smiled back. “Awesome, dude!” 

He looked a bit flustered. “Um, let me get you an employee form, then...I can show you around I guess? If you’re up for that.” 

“I just finished watching Grace and Frankie,” Derek deadpanned. “I think my schedule is open.”

“Hah.” Derek replied sarcastically. “Okay, snarkybrows, I see what kind of employee you’re gonna be!”

Stiles darted back into the kitchen out of view, and very quickly returned. “Just fill this stuff out, and then I’ll give you training on the register.”

Derek nodded, pulling the form towards him and beginning to fill it in. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Stiles fidget for a minute, then return to the kitchen. Several minutes of silence later, he heard a crash from the back. 

Derek jerked up, but Stiles flew through the kitchen door. 

“I’m good! I’m good!” He flailed at Derek. He was covered in what Derek assumed was flour. Once he saw that Derek had sat back down, he disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Derek to wonder what he was getting himself into.


	8. Lemon Bars & New Clothes

Hiring Derek was the worst decision Stiles had made. It had been a perfect idea, Derek was looking for work, happy to repeatedly sample food and provide an opinion, and most importantly, could clearly tolerate Stiles for days on end. Stiles just hadn’t taken into account how close he would be to Derek during training. They were standing almost pressed together while Stiles showed him how to use the register, occasionally leaning over him to point something out. More than a few times, Stiles had lost his train of thought or stopped speaking midsentence when he caught sight of Derek brushing powdered sugar off his front, hand resting over the very slightly bulge of his midsection.

Stiles had been keeping the plate next to the register well-stocked. The number of lemon bars was a little excessive for just a quick taste-test, but Derek hadn’t complained. He had steadily eaten his way through the plate as Stiles explained the ins and out of cashiering. 

“Good?”

“The lemon is too sweet,” Derek told him, as he took another from the plate.

“Noted,” Stiles nodded. “I’ll cut back on the sugar for the next batch.”

The café register was old, but not hard to use, so by the end of the day, Derek had picked it up. That gave Stiles an excuse to escape to the back, which brought about a new set of challenges. Being behind Derek, poking his head out of the kitchen when he had a question, was almost worse than being next to him. It gave him a front seat view to the way Derek’s ass was rounding out and filling out his gym shorts. Which resulted in his second challenge – Stiles desperate to urge to see Derek fill out those gym shorts even more, was turning into batch after batch of new recipes to be tested. 

He really needed to ask Derek if he had any other clothes. Stiles had a very close and personal relationship with Derek’s gym attire, which were now even tighter before, but there was no way he could stay professional for long. He wasn’t sure how to mention that, while their attire of jeans and T-shirts wasn’t exactly strict, it was a little more rigid than athletic wear. It seemed improper to mention though, Derek had been out of work for at least a month and money was probably tight. Stiles would happily have lent him the money for a “business expense” but was afraid Derek would take it as charity. Once Derek got his first paycheck, Stiles would have to bring it up.

Until then, safe to say, he was going to be jerking off every night now, thinking about how many pastries it would take before Derek’s tank top and shorts were stretched to the breaking point. 

***

Derek stood in front of the mall doors and sighed. He’d been promising himself that he would get some more appropriate clothes to wear to the bakery for a week now, especially since he’d begun working for Stiles. Not to mention the raised eyebrows he’d been getting from some of the soccer moms who had started dropping by for a morning coffee and danish. Apparently all Stiles’s work stocking that bake sale had paid off. All the more reason for Derek to look more professional and less like the fitness instructor he used to be. Also apparently tank tops were against food service regulations. 

So here he stood, in front of the Beacon Hills mall, dreading what was coming. 

Taking a deep breath, Derek squares his shoulders and went inside. 

People.

People everywhere.

Okay, so going to the mall on the weekend wasn’t his best idea but Sundays were really the only days Cafe Claudia was closed so it was the first chance Derek had had. But god, why so many people?

Derek quickly dove into the first clothing store he recognized and began looking at their pants. Jeans were what Stiles wore, but Stiles was also in the back of house most of the time. Maybe Derek should get some dark pants? Then again, Derek usually came home with a patch of flour or powdered sugar...or both...somewhere on his person. Khakis? Maybe Derek could convince Stiles to get the cafe logo embroidered on some polos for him and Erica. Derek would pay of course. Cafe Claudia didn’t really have the money for that if Derek’s estimates on their daily profit were accurate, but Derek had money to spare. Well, not loads of it, but enough that he really wished Stiles would have agreed to a lower wage. He knew that his employment was costing the bakery money, even with Erica’s cut hours. She said she didn’t mind but Derek didn’t know her well enough to believe her at her word. Plus, she kept giving Derek looks. In any case, maybe Derek could convince his family to invest in the cafe. That is, if he ever got up the nerve to speak to them again…

“Excuse me, sir? Do you need any help?” 

Derek almost jumped at the quiet voice behind him. He’d been lost in reverie and hadn’t noticed the blond, curly-haired man behind him. 

“Gah! I mean...um...yeah? I guess I need some khaki pants…”

“Okay. What size?” the young man asked. His cherubic face broke into a grin at Derek’s surprise.   
Derek squinted at the mischief, but didn’t comment. “I usually wear 32’s.”

The man nodded. “Okay, and would you like straight leg, pleated, or relaxed fit?”

Derek looked up at the pictures of the models on the wall above the pants. “No pleats. Let’s try a straight and a relaxed.”

“Awesome,” the man said, pulling one of each off the rack and putting them over his arm. “Anything else?”

“A medium white polo” Derek said. 

The man walked quickly to the polo shirts and pulled one off. His lithe, tall frame was almost willowy.

“Okay, so let’s get you a dressing room.”

Derek followed the young man to the back of the store. 

“My name’s Isaac, by the way, so if you need anything else, please let me know, okay?”

Isaac held open the dressing room door, the two pairs of pants and the shirt already hanging on the wall hook inside. 

Derek nodded and stepped into the room, letting the door close behind him. 

He quickly slipped off his trainers and slid down his shorts. The nylon fabric bunched into a pile at his feet. Derek picked up the straight leg pants first. Sliding them on, he found that they pinched a bit in the crotch area, even before he tried to button them. Then again, the reason Derek wore a 32 instead of a 30 was to get some extra room for his legs and butt. It was probably just the cut of the pants. 

Derek shoved them back down and threw them over the empty hanger, taking the relaxed fit instead. These slid easier up his legs, though still pulled slightly. When he went to button them though, Derek found himself struggling. He looked down at his waist and found that he couldn’t really see the waistband over the pooch at his middle. 

With a grunt, Derek tried again to fasten the waistband but found it a couple inches short of closing.

Derek looked at himself in the mirror. His tank top had pulled up from the struggle and left his midriff bare, where a small tummy of belly fat and love handles had replaced his six pack and svelte obliques. With trepidation, Derek let his fingers run over the chub. He knew he’d been putting on some weight. Derek wasn’t stupid, and frankly with his bakery heavy intake and his lack of exercise, it was bound to happen. He just never knew it had happened so...fast. 

Derek looked up at the polo shirt. Would it be too small too? Slipping the shirt off the hanger and over his tank top, Derek found that the shirt did indeed pull a bit at the chest and around his midsection. The fabric continued past his waist, but where it would have been a smooth plane a few weeks ago, it hugged and showed off his new gut. Well that wouldn’t do. It didn’t look professional to wear such tight clothes. At least, not outside of a gym.  
Derek quickly pulled off the polo and pants. The weirdest thing to him was he didn’t feel embarrassed by outgrowing the sizes he used to wear. If anything he felt...proud? Accomplished? Like he was growing up? Derek wasn’t sure.

“Everything alright in there?” Isaac’s voice came from over the door. 

“Um, yeah…” Derek said, “but I think I’m gonna need some different sizes.”

“Oh, okay, something smaller?” He asked, his voice lilting as if he already knew the answer. 

“Definitely larger. Let’s try a large shirt.”

“Alright, I can grab that for you. What about the pants? Would you like to try a size up in those?”

Derek thought about how the fabric pinched and felt a small smile break on his face. 

“Better make it two.”


	9. More Lemon Bars

Derek’s new clothes looked good. Drop-the-entire-cookie-tray, good. It was becoming an unfortunate trend that Stiles’ hands seemingly stopped working when his mind focused in on Derek. That, or his mind was subconscious trying to sabotage him, knowing the eventual outcome. As Derek’s taste testing duties were expanding to include finishing off the many desserts that were unfit to serve. The “five-second” rule was becoming one of the principal rules of the Café with the number of times that Stiles had sent baked goods crashing to the ground. 

It was creating a vicious cycle. The more Derek ate, the more opportunities presented themselves for Stiles to be hopelessly distracted: the little groans, the chocolate smeared on his lips, the powdered sugar down his front, the way his ass was rounding out to fill out his shorts, or the little pudge around his waist visible when he raised his hands. Anyone reasonable would understand how Stiles could have so many kitchen and tray-related incidents being around someone like Derek all day.

His brain was currently in one of those Derek-distracted hazes. There was a mixed reaction, half his mind was mourning the chance to watch Derek keep stretching out his gym attire, while the other half was already filling in fantasies about Derek in polos and khakis. Stiles was an open-minded kind of guy, there wasn’t much he hadn’t thought about when it came to Derek, but much of his thoughts had been on an out-of shape, softening up, ex-jock and now he was getting a glimpse at a taste-tester outgrowing his uniform. Derek’s new pants looked roomy now, but without the forgiveness of the elastic waistband, his appetite was going to put the button and seams to the test. Starting with the cookies Stiles was now scrambling to pick up.

“Shit, sorry. Morning! New clothes?” 

Derek nodded bent down and started helping Stiles pick up the scattered cookies. “I wanted to buy something more professional.”

“They look good! I hope it didn’t put you out,” he hesitated before offering, “if you have the receipts, I can reimburse you.” 

Stiles had planned to pick up the expense of new clothes, or at least offer since he knew Derek was out of work and possibly tight on money, but Stiles had more of a value store in mind. He wasn’t sure if the register even had enough for him to deduct. The brand Derek was wearing was nice, a lot nicer than what Stiles had ever owned, and easily had probably set Derek back at least a hundred dollars. 

“You aren’t paying for my clothes.” 

“Are you sure? I won’t do payroll for another week, if you need - ”

“- I have the money. Savings and - it was overdue anyway.. The shorts were getting tight.” 

“They looked good on you too,” Stiles winked. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

“Stiles, if you paid for that, I would have to pay you back for all the extra food.” Derek told him, pointedly gesturing to the half eaten cookie in his hand. 

“Floor cookies are a discount,” Stiles told him grabbing one from the haphazardly stacked pile. Broken or not, they were delicious. Derek clearly thought so too - the cookies were gone within the hour. 

***

It had been another three weeks of Derek working at the cafe, six in total, which meant he had been on a steady diet of Stiles’s “Floor Cookies” and “Taste tester batches.” Today is was lemon bars. The fourth batch of testers in three days as Stiles strived to find the perfect balance of tart and sweet. Derek was sure that the different fruit would have some play in the flavor but Stiles was insistent that Derek’s input was key. 

It probably didn’t help that Derek usually made the lemon bars disappear within the first half of his shift. After the chocolate cake Stiles had given him that first day, lemon bars were Derek’s favorite baked treat, and Derek was pretty sure that Stiles could tell. 

All the sugar and sweets had really begun to add up on Derek’s frame. At least three months of not working out daily and eating sweets had put thirty pounds onto Derek. His new khaki pants had been roomy when he bought them but now had begun to pinch at the waist slightly, and his white polos were really starting to stretch over his belly and love handles. To say nothing of how the pants hugged his butt and thighs, or how his proud chest had started to soften and show peaked moobs through the knit of the shirts. 

Stiles had definitely noticed, if his compliments or increased tray dropping were any indication. Of course, said tray mishaps usually occurred when Derek had to bend over for something. Derek may or may not have made it a goal to bend over at least twice a shift.   
Just when Derek had been contemplating bending over again, Stiles bustled out of the kitchen with another plate of lemon bars. 

“Okay, so less sugar this time in the filling, but I added some lemon zest to the crust to broaden the lemon flavor,” Stiles said, placing the plate by the register.  
Derek quickly snagged a bar from the new batch and stuffed it into his mouth. The buttery crust melted delightfully on his tongue as he chewed, then the creamy lemon curd burst with sour and sweetness across his taste buds.

“Mmmmmmmmmm, pur-fec,” Derek hummed through a full mouth. 

Stiles snorted, then picked up a bar for himself.   
Derek watched as Stiles closed his eyes, chewing on the bite of bar he’d taken. Though he hadn’t been gaining weight at the same rate as Derek, Stiles himself had also gotten a little rounder since Derek had started working there. Whether from the lunches they shared together and the other meals Derek made sure Stiles was eating, or from the increased baking of testers and mishaps, Derek didn’t know specifically what was causing the gain. But he liked it. 

He liked the way Stiles’s white t-shirts had tightened, the way they threatened to rise up above Stiles’s belly pooch every time he raised his arms. And he loved the way Stiles’s own pants cupped his cute butt, once small and perky but quickly growing larger. He loved how Stiles’s mole covered cheeks were rounding out, and that his chin had begun to round where it was once more square; how Stiles’s lips were more perky and kissable than ever.   
Derek wanted to kiss Stiles so bad. Wanted to lean forward and just press his own lips to Stiles’s…  
The tinkling of the door bell snapped Derek out of his daydream and he quickly drew back from where he had been leaning towards Stiles. Stiles own eyes had snapped open at the sound, and he kept Derek’s gaze for a moment before clearing his throat. 

“Um...yeah, I think you’re right. I’m gonna...go write down the recipe before I forget what I did.”

Derek watched Stiles slip away, and mourned the loss of the moment before someone cleared their throat behind him. With a sigh, Derek quickly brushed his front off to make sure he wasn’t sporting any crumbs. 

“Welcome to Cafe Claudia, what can I get for you today?” Derek asked, a customer service smile slipping onto his face as he expected to find a soccer mom waiting to be served. 

Instead he came face to face with his older sister.

“Laura?” he breathed out.

“Hey there, Der,” the brunette greated him. 

“What...what are you doing here?” he asked.

Laura raised an eyebrow. “I came to check out the new cafe my friend keeps raving about. What are you doing here?”

Derek raised an eyebrow in return. “I work here. What does it look like?”

Laura took a moment to look down at Derek’s body and how he’d put on weight since the last time she’d seen him. “It looks like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Derek blushed heavily, the red color making its way up his cheeks and even to the tips of his ears. 

“What happened to the gym? And Kate?” Laura asked.   
Derek’s stomach sunk. This was exactly why he’d been avoiding his family. He didn’t want to deal with all the questions and accusing looks that he was sure would come up about his relationship with Kate and everything that had happened. 

Laura seemed to realize Derek’s discomfort, and rather than push, she relented. “Can I get a sampler?” She asked, looking down at the case. 

Derek went into autopilot, taking one of almost every item they had and placing them into a box for her. 

“Laur…” he started, wanting to address the awkwardness.

“And dinner.” She looked up at Derek.   
Derek froze, looking down into her eyes. After a moment, he nodded. 

Laura smiled, straightening. Derek finished loading up the box and put it next to the register. “That’ll be $26.57.” He said. 

Laura handed over her card. She peeked into the box as Derek ran the card on the machine. 

“And then you can tell me which one of these is the best.” 

“Lemon Bars,” Derek replied without pause. 

Laura raised her eyebrows. 

Derek blushed again and looked down at the box, opening it and quickly sneaking in two lemon bars from off his plate.

Laura laughed, taking the box. “Well then! I guess I’ll see you tonight!” 

Derek felt his stomach drop as he watched Laura walk out of the cafe. 

Shit.


	10. Anything with Curly Fries

There was something wrong with Derek. Stiles had seen him talking to a dark-haired customer that Derek clearly had recognized, but had done his best to busy himself and non eavesdrop. She could be his ex, for all he knew. Derek never mentioned anyone, family, friends, or his ex-girlfriend. Aside from Netflix, Stiles didn’t know much about what Derek did in his free time at all. Whoever had come into Cafe Claudia had clearly upset Derek. He had barely left the register and didn’t hear at least three attempts of Stiles to start a conversation with him from the kitchen. 

“Derek.” No answer. “Derek.”

Stiles finally went over to where Derek was angrily scrubbing an already very clean counter clean and nudged him gently. The most concerning was the plate of lemon bars still sitting by his side. Derek never left lemon bars uneaten for long. 

“Feel okay? What’s up?”

“My sister stopped by.” 

“Oh! I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Derek nodded. “Two.”

“I always wanted siblings, probably would have driven my dad crazy though. Does your family live around here?” 

“Yeah. We all grew up around here and stayed close. That was my older sister, Laura.

“You don’t seem happy to see her.”

Derek opened his mouth to say something, then gave a shrug and shook his head. Stiles finished a neglected lemon bar waiting for Derek to say something, but Derek had gone back to picking his cleaning. “Gonna need a little more than that.” 

“I wasn’t expecting to see her. It’s been…awhile.”

“How long is awhile?”

“A few years.” He let out a sigh. “I haven’t seen any of my family in years.”

“Do you not get along?” It was the only reason Stiles could see for not wanting to see your family. He would have given anything to spend more time with her. His dad was all the family he had left, save for Scott and Melissa who were basically family at this point, and Sunday morning brunch had become something of a standing date for the two Stilinski’s. Going more than a few months without hearing from his dad was hard, a few years would be unthinkable. 

“We were close until I told them I never wanted to see them again and left.”

“I used to tell my dad I hated him, when my mom died. We worked through it. Your family must miss you, man. Your sister came to find you.”

“She wants to get dinner tonight.”

“Are you going?”

“I don’t know. I want to…but what am I going to say?”

“Sorry?”

Derek laughed bitterly. His voice was uncharacteristically sharp, but it didn’t quite reach his face, which looked almost mournful. “That doesn’t begin to cover it. Stiles, I left them. I quit school, took the money, and started the gym with Kate. They warned me, I didn’t listen, and look where that got me.”

Stiles put a hand on a tense shoulder. “Can I hug you?”

Derek nodded and Stiles wrapped his arms around him in a quick hug. Derek clearly needed one from the miserable expression on his face and Stiles was a great hugger, helped along by his growing adherence to ‘never trust a skinny chef.’ Stiles wasn’t the only one putting on weight, he could feel his soft belly pressing up against Derek’s softer and larger one. He was comfortable - no longer the wall of muscle he had been. It made him wonder about the rest of him, if his thighs would be thicker, ass firm but squeezeable….Stiles let go of Derek, regrettably quickly, but if Stiles didn’t unwrap his arms now, he would be tempted to never let go of Derek. 

“Sounds like you made a mistake and got out of a bad situation.”

“I – yeah. Sorry, I wasn’t implying – ”

“I know, man. I get it, no offense taken. Working in a bakery isn’t exactly owning a gym.” 

“I thought when I saw them again I would have made it.” 

“Maybe…would it help if I came with you? I’m great at awkward silences with literally anyone, strangers, your family, your sister...”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“What are friends for? My dad has a badge and a gun, there’s no way your family can be more terrifying than that.” 

“Cora, my younger sister, is terrifying.”

“But is she bribable? No one can turn down the Stilinksi charm and baked goods.”

“I’m not saying you have to, but….I think you should see them, Derek. Just have dinner with Laura and see how it goes? If it goes badly - at least you’ll know.”

“Okay,” Derek breathed, “I’ll see how it goes with Laura.”

***

Derek sighed at his reflection. He didn’t really have anything nice to wear outside from his work uniform, so he had forgone changing between work and his dinner with Laura. Now he really wished he had something else to wear, especially given how much his white polo showed off the weight he’d gained. 

Not that Derek minded the weight itself. Hell, he’d actually been a little turned on by how it felt recently. Even that day, when Stiles had hugged him, which, god, it’d been so long since he’d gotten a hug,...but when he’d pressed against Stiles, and felt how much more of him came in contact with Stiles, it had been hard to stay focused on the conversation for a moment.

But the weight...after everything that happened, Derek was nervous about what Laura would say. Shit, he was more than nervous. He was terrified!

The last time he’d seen his family had been almost five years before, and he’d been much thinner back then. Then again, he’d been younger, not yet into his adult growth, so his muscles had been more wiry than bulky. But Kate had insisted that he had to be thin before he became muscular. Thankfully, Derek had learned a lot since Kate. 

Giving up on his appearance, Derek turned from the mirror and headed out the door of his loft. Laura had told him to pick the restaurant, so Derek had picked Casey’s Diner, a place he had become pretty familiar with since Stiles had introduced him. Derek loved their milkshakes. 

It was only a fifteen minute walk to the diner, since the diner was right near the cafe. Derek was so focused on his anxiety about the evening that he was outside the restaurant before he knew it. Laura’s black Camaro was parked outside, so she had already arrived. Derek’s stomach roiled. He kept reminding himself that she hadn’t seemed mad at the cafe, though she could have been hiding her feelings. 

Realizing that he was stalling, Derek sighed and headed into the restaurant. 

Casey’s diner had all the kitsch and charm of a 50’s diner from the movies. The interior walls were covered in records, Elvis paintings, and other memorabilia that harkened back to days gone by. 

“Hey, Derek,” Kira greeted him from the hostess stand in her sock-hop attire. The Japanese girl smiled at him brightly and tucked a lock of her long black hair behind her ear, “You don’t usually dine in! Special Occasion? Or did I miss your order?” She spun to look at the tickets on the rack behind her. 

“No, I’m...uh…” Derek staggered out, “I’m having dinner with my sister.”

Both of them turned to look at the dining area and saw Laura’s hand in the air as she waved at her brother from one of the booths. 

“Oh! Okay, then!” Kira said, gesturing for him to go on back. 

Derek smiled at her and nodded, heading for the booth where Laura sat. 

“You made it,” Laura said as Derek slid into the booth. 

“I said I would be here,” Derek frowned at her, eyebrows furrowing. 

“I know, I know, I just…” Laura shrugged, “...with everything that’s happened, I wasn’t sure.”

Derek snorted. “I would have thought you would be the one who didn’t show.”

“Me? Dinner was my idea.” Laura said.

It was Derek’s turn to shrug. “Yeah, but,...” he trailed off. 

“Der, you know we’re not mad at you, right?”

Derek looked up at Laura, an eyebrow raised sardonically.

Laura chuckled. “Okay, so we were mad at you. Especially after what you said when you left. And it took a while, but eventually we all figured out how to let go of the anger. Well, everyone but Cora. She still gets pissed every time someone says your name.”

Derek frowned. His younger sister had followed him around when they were younger. It didn’t surprise him that the whole thing was harder on her. 

“What about mom and dad?” Derek asked softly.

Laura smiled at him gently. “Der, they miss you.”

Derek swallowed dryly. His stomach was tied in knots of guilt that made him queasy. He looked down and thumbed the laminated edge of the menu sitting in front of him. 

“Laura, I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered. 

From across the table, Laura placed her hand over his. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Derek shrugged. Thinking about Kate still felt kind of raw, even after all this time. 

The two of them sat in silence for a minute, before Laura pulled back and picked up her menu. 

“Well, then lets order. What’s good to eat here?” she asked.

Derek sighed, relieved. “Anything with curly fries, if you ask Stiles.” he said. 

“Stiles?” Laura asked, raising her eyebrow.

Derek blushed slightly and looked down. “My boss,” he said, then looked back up at Laura. 

She smirked at him. “Your boss, sure. At the cafe?” 

Derek nodded, internally cursing how easily Laura still saw through him. But the familiarity of the exchange loosened the tension he had been holding. “Yeah, we order from here once or twice a week for lunch. It was Stiles’s suggestion. I think he’s tried everything on the menu at least twice.”

“I bet he has,” Laura teased, waggling her eyebrows. 

Derek furrowed his brow at Laura in response. “It’s not like that. He’s just a friend.”

Laura smiled and opened her mouth like she was going to say something, then leaned back and shrugged. “Okay. Whatever you say.” She picked the menu back up and continued browsing. 

Derek frowned at the change. 

“Are you happy at least, Der?” She asked.

Derek met her eyes, then nodded. 

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”


	11. Chocolate Chip Cookies & Lemon Bars

“Chocolate chip?”

“Yes,” Stiles said, snatching the plate away, “and you’re allowed one. The rest are for Melissa.”

“Business been good? Parrish said the coffee is still shit, but the doughnuts are better.”

“Which you wouldn’t know anything about.”

“Course not,” the Sheriff said innocently. “Looks like you’ve been eating well…”

Stiles looked down at the traitorous middle. It looked more obviously round than usual, helped along by his snug shirt. The shirt had been too tight this morning, before he had stress-eaten all the Cafe leftovers worrying about Derek’s dinner date with his sister. Despite Stiles’ offer to accompany them, Derek had politely declined. He had looked so anxious and tense that Stiles closed up early so as not to prolong Derek’s stress. 

“I eat lunch now!”

It was Derek’s doing. Stiles had been eating better than usual lately, because Derek faithfully reminded him to take a break and eat. It wasn’t always take-out, sometimes he really was too busy for anything more than a quick sandwich, but the fast-food lunches, combined with the job hazard of constantly being around baked goods, was adding up. Balance was not a concept Stiles was familiar with - he either forgot to eat all day, or ate far more than he should. These days, it was almost always the latter.

“Derek been reminding you to eat? Good man.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s his fault my pants don’t fit.” Stiles said reproachfully. He had been so enthralled with watching Derek’s expanding waistline, he paid little mind to his own. His floor was scattered with jeans that adamantly refused to button and shirts that had gotten indecently tight over his love handles and belly. Unlike Derek, he had already been on the chubbier side and the extra weight was settling heavily around his middle. Stiles wasn’t bothered, he’d buy some bigger jeans, at least a size or two up, and keep eating more than his fair share to at least try and keep up with Derek.

“Right, I’m sure he’s the one who always suggests Casey’s?”

“Who told you?!” 

“Son, I’ve had at least a dozen people ask me if that was the Hale boy working with you.”

“Friends of his? He never mentions anyone.”

“I don’t think they know him as much as they know of him. The Hale’s are a big family, not to mention rich. They’ve made some generous donations to the station.”

“Huh. That…actually explains a lot.”

The Sheriff nodded. “Guess he used to run a gym?” 

“Yeah, I went - walked past his gym. Nothing special.” 

Walked past, with a guilty conscience, he thought. He certainly didn’t plan on telling Derek he had been spying on his old business. It was a nagging mystery he had been hoping the gym could solve. Derek remained tight-lipped about his past, and his ex, even if it clearly still upset him. The gym had looked like every-other gym Stiles had seen - not that he had been in many. Large glass windows lining the front to show off a spartan looking room, filled with the typical machines. A blonde trainer was walking around to the dozen or so people working out on the machines while another buff looking man was in the corner coaching someone on weights. It was, Stiles hated to say it, unremarkable. He couldn’t imagine Derek smiling much working there. He looked far happier eating and talking to Stiles in the much more welcoming arms of Cafe Claudia.

“Sounds like Derek agreed.”

“He only left because he broke up with his girlfriend.”

“If it was his business, he could have kicked her out, or bought her portion of it. Sounds like he needed a change.”

“Or he just needed a job.” Derek had only been working at Cafe Claudia a short time, but Stiles knew he would sorely miss him when he left. If he left, but Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek would want to stay around indefinitely. 

“Son, you don’t pay that well.”

“He makes it back by eating my profits.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m sure he’s sneaking all these treats, right? Not being handed boxes of them? 

“He has a sweet tooth,” Stiles grumbled, “and it’s nice when someone appreciates my baking.”

“And just how much of your profits are you feeding that poor boy?”

“That’s - I’m not - he offered! Derek’s helping with my recipes.” Stiles looking indignant as the Sheriff gave him a knowing look. “Enthusiastically helping!”

Stiles was strict about keeping his dad on a diet, but otherwise had a slight tendency to push excessive amounts of food on people. It was completely coincidental if people who were around him, Scott and Lydia when they were younger, and now Derek, started putting on weight. He was a baker, it came with the territory and kept him in business.Stiles had absolutely no ulterior motives - that his father had to know of. He definitely didn’t need to know how much time Stiles spend imagining himself feeding Derek and watching his gain. 

“If he can keep up with all your cooking, you two deserve each other.”

“It’s not like that.”

“But you want it to be.”

Stiles’ flushed. “....maybe.”

The Sheriff shook his head and laughed, clapping Stiles on the shoulder. “He sounds like a good guy. I’ll stop by sometime and say hi.” 

***

Derek lay on his side on his couch, Netflix playing the credits for an episode of “Blown Away,” on the TV in front of him. The glassblowing competition show was entertaining without the manufactured drama that Derek hated in other shows. Lazily, Derek reaches over to the box of lemon bars he’d been too nervous to eat during the day. Only a few remained from the pile he’d taken home, and Derek knew he would probably finish them tonight. He picked up the one on top and brought it to his mouth for a big bite. 

On the coffee table, Derek’s phone chirped an incoming text tone. He lazily reached for it while munching.

STILES: HOW DID IT GO?

Derek stuffed the rest of the lemon bar into his mouth and adjusted his position to be able to type with both thumbs. 

DEREK: Fine. Laura was...Laura. It was good to talk to her.

STILES: I’LL BET! DID YOU GUYS TALK IT ALL OUT?

Derek shook his head at the way Stiles texted. Just like he talked, like an excited teenager.

DEREK: Yeah. She didn’t pressure me though, so that was nice of her. But we did talk about Kate, and the fight. 

DEREK: She said mom and dad figured that Kate had charmed me or something. 

STILES: …

DEREK: They think she just wanted me for my family’s money, which kind of hurts to think about but looking back, I think they’re right. Kate never really loved me.

STILES: ...I’M SORRY DER…

DEREK: She says they aren’t mad anymore. But Cora may kick my ass.

STILES: NO GOOD ON THE ASS KICKING. 

STILES: BUT THAT’S GOOD THAT THEY AREN’T MAD. WHEN ARE YOU GONNA SEE THEM?

DEREK: Um...Laura said I should come to Sunday dinner next weekend.

DEREK: I know you said you’d be willing to come with me…

STILES: DUDE OF COURSE!!!

STILES: I WILL TOTALLY GO WITH YOU

STILES: SHIT WHAT SHOULD I BAKE?!?!  
Derek chuckled softly to himself. 

DEREK: You know most people would be worried about what to wear, right?

Derek looked down at himself. The tank top he was currently wearing had pulled up slightly to reveal his soft roll of furred belly. He might need to make a shopping trip himself. He looked back up when his phone buzzed again. 

STILES: HEY MY FASHION SENSE IS FABULOUS. BESIDES, IF I’M GONNA IMPRESS YOUR FAMILY, WE BOTH KNOW IT’S GONNA BE WITH BAKED GOODS.

Almost immediately after Derek read Stiles’s latest message, a new text popped up from Laura. 

LAURA: OMG THESE LEMON BARS AND THE BROWNIES AND THE COOKIES!

LAURA: HOLY FUCK DER NO WONDER YOU WORK THERE!!!

Derek snorted, and flipped back to his conversation with Stiles. 

DEREK: Judging by the text message I just got from Laura, I’d say you already had a head start.

STILES: SHE LIKED HER SAMPLER?

DEREK: She just told me she understands why I work for you now.

STILES: NAH I’M GETTING THE BEST PART OF THE DEAL THERE.

Derek blushed and paused. He wasn’t sure what to say to that. It seemed that Stiles didn’t know what else to say either since the little dots kept popping up and disappearing. Eventually, Stiles broke the stalemate. 

STILES: WELL, I GOTTA START PLANNING! TTYL!

Derek shook his head. Only Stiles would plan his baking almost a week away. 

DEREK: Goodnight, Stiles.

He set his phone down and looked at the almost empty box of lemon bars. Something in him was suddenly hungry, and besides, no use letting them go to waste.


	12. Baking Frenzy

With Sunday looming closer, and after finally conceding he couldn’t keep using his apron to cover up the fact his shirts were getting indecently tight around his middle and he was using a rubber band to fasten his jeans, Stiles forced himself to go shopping. His basket was filled with T-shirts and jeans in appropriately bigger sizes and Stiles was on his way to the register when he remembered the dinner with Derek’s family. Stiles wasn’t completely sure if he had any nice clothes in his closet at home, but, even if he did, there was no chance they still fit.

Standing in front of the changing room mirror, Stiles was satisfied with his outfit. He looked chubby, but presentable. Slimming colors were only true for people who didn’t spend most days overeating, but the pants cut a nice figure and the shirt was loose enough that he didn’t look like someone outgrowing their clothes faster than they could replace them. Hopefully it was good enough for Derek’s family – plus, their own son was chubbier than Stiles, so they couldn’t look down on him too much….. 

Stiles added the clothes to his cart. For no explainable reason, Stiles found himself back in the aisle looking for the largest sizes of slacks and button-down shirts he could find. The strange curiosity led him to 6XLs, which were almost unimaginably large when Stiles held them up. If he tried them on, he knew he would be swimming in all the excess fabric. He wondered what size Derek was up to now. His pant size had to be larger than Stiles’ now, having to accommodate for the way his ass was rounding out. It seemed a little far fetched to imagine Derek wearing these sizes…but what if?

Stiles did his best not to think about it until he left the store and made it to the safety of his shower. There, he was free to imagine Derek eagerly trying to fill out such a large size. Eating everything Stiles gave him, one hand rubbing his growing gut while the other stuffed bite after bite in his mouth. With Stiles feeding him, how long would it take him to fill out those pants? He could imagine Derek pulling at the waistband, still inches of room, but not nearly as much as they once had. Not fat enough, Stiles. Have any more lemon bars? How many greasy diner lunches and desserts before his blubbery belly was hanging well into his lap, seams giving way to the pressure of his expanding rear, taking up two chairs as he ate? Keep feeding me like this and I won’t fit in the door! 

He could see Derek reaching that point. Struggling to get his massive backside into the Café, finally squeezing through, lazily settling himself down behind the register and immediately digging into Stiles’ latest dessert. Stiles worshiping Derek’s rolls and flab after each meal, tracing every stretch mark, with Derek smiling and leaning back, stifling burps and moans, letting Stiles try to soothe his overfed gut before his next feast. Stiles, only one cake? I had four yesterday…

Stiles eyes rolled back in his head as he came with a groan of pleasure. When his vision finally returned, he rested his head on the shower wall. He was going to be in a mood tomorrow at work. At least he could blame the increased amount of baked goods on the dinner with the Hales. If they had appetites like Derek, then bringing just one dessert wouldn’t cut it. Stiles was going to need to try out a few different recipes before deciding what to bring. He hoped his taste-tester was up for it….

***

Derek was stuffed. Well and truly stuffed. He was used to going home from work pleasantly full, but for the past couple of days Stiles had been in a kind of baking frenzy, making five or six new recipes every day, each of which he insisted that Derek taste test thoroughly. This meant that Derek went from eating 2 or so plates of goodies a day to at least 4, and they had definitely left their mark on Derek. By Wednesday, he left the cafe feeling as if he might pop a stitch somewhere. His stomach was more rounded than ever and his pants were practically painted on, which was why Derek decided to make another trek to the mall and find some larger clothes. 

Like the last trip, Derek found himself being helped by the angelically-faced Isaac. Unlike the last trip, however, Derek threw caution to the wind and went up several sizes from the ones he was currently wearing.   
When he got to the changing room, Derek quickly shucked his pants and shirt to get a good look at himself in the floor length mirror. His round belly protruded, and he rubbed the red marks where his pants had bitten into his fleshy waist. Derek took stock of his newly grown love handles and his thicker thighs. In the past several months, he had blown past “thick,” outgrown, “beefy,” and moved beyond “chunky.” His face had rounded out to soften his jawline and when Derek looked down, there were the beginnings of a double chin. His once proud pectoral muscles were now soft and pointy with flab, and his striated arm muscles were now padded with a layer of fat. Derek had moved into the realm of “chubby.” From his estimates, he must have put on at least fifty pounds from his workout weight at least, possibly more. The very thought caused his dick to stiffen. Derek pressed down on it with a choked off moan. 

“Everything alright in there?” 

The voice of Isaac snapped Derek out of his inappropriate behavior. 

“Just...Just having a little trouble with the button.” he grunted out. 

“Should I get you a larger size?” Isaac asked. 

“No, but maybe a pair of jeans? And a couple of Henleys?” Derek said. At least he could get some off-work clothes in the correct sizes. His workout clothes had been getting ridiculously tight recently. Derek bit his lip as another thrill of pleasure pulsed through him at that thought. He quickly jammed his legs into the new khakis and yanked them on. The rough seams un-pleasurably pulled at the hair on his legs and helped him focus. The waistband on the 48’s closed without issue, so Derek knew he had chosen correctly. Even though there was now some wiggle room in the pants’ fit, he doubted it would stick around for long. With a huff, he pulled on the XL polo shift and yanked it past his belly. The fabric clung to his gut but not in obscene tightness, so he had some room in this size as well. 

The clack of several hangers on the door caught Derek’s attention as Isaac threw over two pairs of jeans and a henley. “I got the relaxed fit and the straight leg fit in jeans so you can see which one works best. The henley’s are all cut the same so you can try this one on and we can get you whatever color you would like if it fits.”  
Derek slipped off the polo and quickly pulled on the henley. The lighter-weight fabric showed clung even more to Derek’s rounded form, but not overly tight. It would do, though not for too long. He pulled down the jeans and looked at them. The relaxed fit seemed to offer more room in the thighs, something that Derek knew he would need, though the idea of wearing tighter jeans to show off his growth for Stiles was tantalizing.   
With a throb, Derek wondered if he would even make it home in time to take care of himself, or if he would end up finishing himself off in the car, along with the box of triple chocolate cookies Stiles had given him.  
As quickly as he could, Derek yanked off the khakis, tried on the jeans, and decided that the relaxed fit were definitely the way to go, then re-dressed in his own clothes, all while trying to ignore his hardness. When he finally gathered the clothes and headed to the register, a smiling Isaac greeted him. 

“Is this all for you?” he asked. 

Derek nodded, laying two pairs of khakis, two polos, and the jeans and henley on the counter. 

“Business must be pretty good,” Isaac chatted.

Derek snorted. “Nah, I’m just good at eating the profits.”

Isaac blushed. “Where...where do you work?”

“Cafe Claudia,” Derek answered, “over on Elm and 6th.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been there once. Great scones, terrible coffee.” 

Derek smiled. “Sounds about right.” 

“Which is a real shame with that espresso machine they have. It’s a real beauty.”

“You know a lot about espresso?”

“Well, I used to work in coffee shop in London, run by this little Italian man. Taught me everything he knew...kinda miss it.”

“Hmmm…” Derek responded, an idea sprouting in his head as he paid for the clothes and Isaac bagged them.   
“Well, thanks for shopping with us! Hope to see you soon!”

Derek smiled again. “Hopefully not too soon.” He took the offered bag of clothes and headed out the door. 

As he passed the cinnabon on the way out the mall, the smell made him think of Stiles. Maybe he would be willing to make cinnamon rolls for Derek. Or Pecan Sticky Buns. Or Monkey bread…

The thoughts made his stomach rumble. The cookies in his car were finished by the time he got home, just in time for Derek to finish himself off.


	13. Lemon Bars, Kitchen Sink Cookies, and Triple Threat Chocolate Cake

“It’s decided! Lemon bars, kitchen sink cookies, and the triple threat chocolate cake.”

Derek gave him a slightly apprehensive look over his bite of coconut cake. Stiles probably should have added some context around the statement, given that he and Derek had both been working amicably in silence for the last half hour. Judging by the look on Derek’s face, he probably assumed those were the next items on his already substantial taste-testing list for the day. Stiles had been overbaking the last week to try and prepare the perfect dishes for his family and after much deliberation an input from Derek had finally decided on the happy balance of what to bring and what recipes seemed good enough to present.

He also had figured out what Derek looked like when he was absolutely stuffed. Eyes glazed, hand on his protruding middle trying to lightly rub away the fullness, while his other hand tried to cover the little burps and moans. It was a very nice look for Derek. It was also the start of Stiles’ Inappropriate Thoughts jar. He had started adding a quarter each time his mind wandered somewhere it definitely shouldn’t be at work. He had at least twenty dollars of quarters in it now. Derek was to blame for at least half. He had to be intentionally bending down and putting his ass on display, practically asking for Stiles to stare. Had to. In another six months Stiles would probably have enough saved up to by the new oven he needed.

“What?”

“To bring to your family,” Stiles clarified.

“Oh. That sounds good, yeah.”

“Are you nervous about seeing them?”

“A little,” Derek admitted. “It was nice seeing Laura first and knowing that they aren’t - they just miss me. And I’m sure they’re going to be thrilled to meet you. You’re still good for Sunday?”

“Hell yeah, dude. It took me forever to perfect this cake, too late to backout now.”

“Laura has been texting me nonstop. She really loved the sampler.” 

“Good! That’s one – how big is your family?”

“It’s my mom and dad, Laura, me, Cora, and then our uncle Peter and his kids Jackson and Malia.”

“Big family. I mean, not huge, but like, it was always just me and my dad, and Scott and his mom, so seven people in a family is huge compared to that. Maybe I should bring two cakes,” Stiles mused. His cakes were usually plenty for six people, assuming normal portions, not the quarter of the cake Derek usually sampled, so nine portions would be cutting it a little tight.

“Why not have everyone come to the Café?”

“Really? Do you – oh ha-ha. Sorry, I think it comes with being a chef, can’t let people go hungry.”

“My mother loves to cook. I’m sure there’s going to be plenty of food, don’t worry.”

“She doesn’t mind cooking? We could have brought over pizza or something.” 

Derek shook his head. “My whole family likes to cook. Eating dinner together was a big thing, so we would always help in the kitchen.” 

“Cool! Okay. One cake it is.”

“Does this mean you’re done feeding me my weight in baked goods?”

“Well…Let’s not get crazy. Who knows, maybe I’ll try the wedding cake business next?” 

“You? Doing only white frosting and basic flavors?”

“I know,” Stiles sighed. “It’s too traditional! There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of color.”

“Exactly,” Derek laughed. “Maybe something smaller. Ever consider cinnamon buns?”

Stiles hadn’t. But by the end of the day, he had scribbled down five different flavor combinations and some rough recipes to try out next week. If Derek’s appetite was up to it. 

***

Derek smoothed his hand down his Henley nervously. Ever since getting dressed he’d found himself doing the motion like some sort of tick, tugging on the fabric and making sure it still fit, as if he would have outgrown the shirt in two days. In truth, he could probably have gone up a size comfortably, but the Henley he wore did fit, as did his dark jeans. 

Sunday Dinner at the Hale house had always been casual. It was more about getting everyone around the table than dressing up, hence Derek’s relaxed wardrobe.   
Stiles was a little more dressed up in a button down shirt that hugged his bulging pot belly just enough to make Derek dream of putting his hands places...but he had relaxed the look by rolling up his sleeves to show off his baker’s muscled forearms. Derek had picked Stiles up from the bakery since that’s where Stiles had left the baked goods for the evening. The moan Stiles had let out when he saw the Camaro had been pornographic.

“Of course you drive a fucking muscle car!” He’d said, then handed two boxes to Derek as he slid into the vehicle with a third. 

Derek shrugged. “Laura made me get it.” He couldn’t hide the smile at how impressed Stiles was, though.

“Your sister is a menace,” Stiles bemoaned, taking the other boxes back and stacking them in his lap.

Derek snorted. “You have no idea.”

The ride to Derek’s parents’ house was mostly silent, though there was a little bit of complimenting back and forth on each other’s outfits. It gave the night the air of a date, which only made both men more nervous about not embarrassing themselves. 

Thankfully the ride wasn’t too terribly long. The Hales lived on the edge of the preserve, but Beacon Hills was a small town, and the protected wilderness was only a fifteen minute drive from downtown. 

When they pulled up in front the Hale house, Stiles gave a low whistle as he took in the three story home. “Wow. You didn’t tell me your family had money.”

Derek blushed and shrugged. “I don’t really know how to bring that stuff up. Most people act weird when I explain that my family is well-off.”

Stiles nodded, then shrugged. “Well, then don’t worry about me! All I gotta worry about is if they’ll like my baked goods. And if they’re anything like you, it’ll be no problem!”

Derek relaxed slightly at Stiles’s chill attitude. They both slid out of the car and walked to stand in front of the porch, Derek smoothing his shirt down one more time.

“You ready?” Stiles asked.

Derek nodded, then turned to climb the porch. Before he could even raise a hand to knock on the door, it opened.


End file.
